


How to Successfully Survive on an Island and Other Things Tony Can't Do

by Lecavayay, verbaeghe



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Bye Week, Competitive Struggling, Desert Island Fic, I know that sounds fake, M/M, No Angst, Praise Kink, Sexy Times, Some Humor, Tampa Bay Lightning, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:44:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22370065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lecavayay/pseuds/Lecavayay, https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbaeghe/pseuds/verbaeghe
Summary: It’s a bye week on a beach with sunshine, there’s just going to be a lot more team bonding than expected. And a healthy dose of competition.“So the rules are,” Stammer starts. “You get whatever you brought in your bag plus the lockbox to take to the island. Whoever stays on their beach the longest before calling for help, wins.”“We’ve all seen Survivor, we know how this goes,” Gourdo says over the mumbling complaints from the other guys.
Relationships: Anthony Cirelli/Braydon Coburn
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	How to Successfully Survive on an Island and Other Things Tony Can't Do

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all know where THIS beauty came from. And if you don't, we highly suggest you watch this video before proceeding: https://www.nhl.com/lightning/video/faceoff--cirelli-and-johnson/t-277437434/c-4749777
> 
> You love us, don't lie.

They don’t get a bye week this season. 

Well, officially they do. 

But it isn’t going to be laying out on a beach and baking--

Well, actually, that’s not true either.

It’s a bye week on a beach with sunshine, there’s just going to be a lot more team bonding than expected. And a healthy dose of competition. 

“So the rules are,” Stammer starts. “You get whatever you brought in your bag plus the lockbox to take to the island. Whoever stays on their beach the longest before calling for help, wins.”

“We’ve all seen Survivor, we know how this goes,” Gourdo says over the mumbling complaints from the other guys. 

Tony clears his throat. “Okay, so. I split everyone up into pairs.”

“Wait, why did you get to split everyone up?” Johnny asks. “Why didn’t someone like, older and wiser do it?”

Tony frowns. 

“Shut up, Johnny,” Stammer says. “Just tell us the pairs, Rocco, I’m sure you picked well.”

No pressure. Tony starts reading off his little handwritten list, holding his breath after each announcement. “Steven and Victor. Alex and Bray. Jan and Erik. Um, Tyler and Ondrej…”

“The first names are weirding me out, bud,” Johnny says. 

“We’re off the ice, we should use actual names,” Tony argues. 

“Thank god we don’t have four Ryans and three Nikitas anymore,” Killer says with a smile. 

“We do have two Macs,” the Mac who is Ryan says.

“And two Ondrejs,” Pally says. “Which one of us is with Johnny?”

“You are,” Tony says before gesturing to Vasy. “Andrei is with Curtis.” 

“Goalies together, classic,” Johnny scoffs. 

Tony glares but keeps going. “Nikita and Misha. Ceddy and Yanni. Pat and Luke.”

“Oh sure, put the new guys together,” Pat says with an eye roll.

Tony is about ten seconds away from ripping up his list and making someone eat it. He goes through the last few pairs before he gets to himself. “And me and Braydon. With an O. Done.”

Johnny raises his eyebrows in Tony’s direction but Tony is absolutely going to ignore them. 

“Everyone paired up?” Coop asks from the boat that’s docked and waiting. “Ready to go?”

The team grumbles but lines up to board anyway. Their competitive spirits always get the best of them. 

One by one the pairs are dropped off at their little patch of an island until it’s just Tony and Braydon left. The last island in the small chain Vinik owns has a patch of trees in the middle and lots of sunny beach. 

“Ready?” Braydon asks, making sure his bag is securely tied around his waist. 

Tony nods before they both jump into the water. Their lockbox of supplies splashes down next to them and Tony picks up the rope to start pulling it to shore. He’s not a bad swimmer so it shouldn’t be too bad. 

He looks over to find Braydon is also a good swimmer and the unstoppable force of his competitive nature takes over. He races for shore, desperate to catch up to Braydon, but the box is really weighing him down. 

Braydon’s nearly to shore before he looks back and notices that Tony’s still in the water. “D’you need help?” he shouts. 

Tony waves him off. He’s almost tall enough to put his feet down and walk it in. It’s fine. 

It’s not fine. 

He soon realizes the sandbar is a false sense of security and there’s still quite a bit of water to slug through before shore. He must not hide the struggle because Braydon turns around to come help. 

“I’ve got it,” he says, taking the rope. “Just get yourself to shore.”

Tony wants to argue about it but Braydon takes off without another word, tugging the box behind him like its nothing. 

That’s hot. 

Oh. 

Tony gets his ass to shore. 

He watches Braydon from the sand, how he rises from the water with all the grace of a professional athlete. The sun hits him in all the right places, ocean water dripping down his skin. The shirt he’s wearing clings to every ridge of his chest and stomach and Tony honestly thinks his mouth goes dry. 

Braydon flicks his head back to clear the water from his hair, which has curled up. Tony runs his fingers through his own mess of curls and sighs. He should probably stop staring. 

“Do you need help?” he calls, instead.

In response, Braydon just heaves the box out of the water and onto the beach all by himself. 

Tony swallows. “Well, that was fun.”

“Yeah,” Braydon says, stretching his arms over his head. “We need to start a shelter and get wood for a fire before dark.”

Tony was really hoping they would bask in the sun for a few hours. “Okay.”

He follows Braydon into their little patch of trees and immediately realizes he has no idea what he’s doing. “Um.”

“I’ll work on the shelter if you can gather as much wood as you can,” he says, pulling out a pocket knife and flipping it open. 

Yeah, Tony picked the winner. “Sure thing.”

He wanders through the trees, picking up as many broken sticks and twigs as he can. Each time he gets an armful, he returns to the beach to make a pile. It doesn’t take too long to get a decent one going. Tony decides to sit and bask next to it while Braydon finishes gathering palm fronds.

“That’s a good start, but we’ll need more to get through the night.”

Tony startles, holding up a hand to block out the sun in his eyes. Braydon’s got three or four fronds over his shoulder and sweat along his brow. “What?”

“The wood,” he reiterates. “We’ll need more.” 

“Oh.” 

“I saw some bigger fallen branches we can cut up. If you could drag a few out here.”

“Yeah, sure. Of course.” 

By the time Tony’s got a Braydon-approved pile of wood, he’s already got half a structure built. “You look like you’ve done this before,” Tony says, impressed. 

Braydon smiles, eyes crinkling up just a little. “I haven’t, but I know the theory. Seems to be working out alright.”

“I’d say. I don’t think any of the other guys will have anything nearly this good.”

“Guess you picked a good partner.” 

Tony blushes and immediately turns to fiddle with his pile of wood. 

“I could use your help for the walls, if you’ve got a minute.”

Which is how Tony finds himself being politely bossed around by Braydon until he’s satisfied with what he built. 

“Hopefully it doesn’t rain,” he says. “I don’t think there’s enough palm fronds to keep water out.”

“Looks pretty good to me.”

“We’ll see.” He smiles again and stretches his big, muscular arms across his chest. 

“What else can I help with?” Tony asks, hoping he gets to sit on the beach for the rest of the night. 

Braydon debates. “If you dig a fire pit, I’ll chop up some bigger logs.”

Tony agrees without argument. “Where should it be?”

They pick a place not too far from the shelter and Tony gets to work. He kind of feels like a puppy digging a hole in the dirt as he flings sand between his legs but it gets the job done. Braydon finds the hatchet in the lockbox and makes quick work of the wood, splitting it into manageable pieces with ease. 

“You really can do it all, eh?” Tony says before he can stop himself. 

“I wouldn’t say that.” Braydon kneels down and expertly stacks the logs, small kindling, and some moss he found. He pulls out a pair of thin little rocks and makes a spark like a fucking wizard. The moss lights and in less than a minute, they have fire. 

“Wow.”

“We’ll need to make sure we keep feeding it,” Braydon says, like he didn’t just casually firebend. 

“Yeah, sure. I can do that.” He settles down on the sand and leans back onto his elbows. He can tell it’s starting to get dark. “Do we get to relax now?”

Braydon laughs, pulling two protein bars from the lockbox and a bag of trail mix from his own bag. “Yeah, we can relax now.”

It rains the first night. Tony is right about the shelter. And so is Braydon. There’s enough palm fronds on one side of their shelter to keep the water out. What they don’t have is any sort of sleeping bag.

“What idiot planned this and didn’t think we deserve sleeping bags?” Braydon asks, slipping in close to Tony. 

“You should sleep on the dry side,” Tony says instead of trying to come up with an answer. “You built it, so you should stay the driest.”

“There’s enough room if we huddle close,” Braydon answers. “We’ll need to for warmth.”

“Are you sure, I don’t want to--”

“Team bonding,” Braydon says with a little shrug.

“Okay,” Tony relents, sliding a bit closer to Braydon, who pulls him into the curve of his arm.

“Hey, you did really good today,” Braydon says as they settle back against the tree. Tony doesn’t think that’s true, but he still hides a small, pleased smile in the shadows.

Tony wakes up to his head resting on Braydon’s chest. He is a bit uncomfortable, but he also doesn’t want to move yet because he can feel Braydon’s slow breathing in his hair. It’s fine, he can wait, it’s early.

At least he thinks it’s early. It’s weird not knowing what time it is.

Tony tries to stretch a bit, moving as little as possible so he doesn’t disturb Braydon. He’s definitely had better sleep in his life, but it wasn’t the worst either. Somehow. 

“Mornin’.” Braydon’s voice is husky and that’s certainly a discovery. Okay, well, Tony is going to not think about that.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Tony says, sitting up.

“You didn’t. The sun did.” 

“Oh.” Tony doesn’t know what else to say, but turns out he doesn’t need anything because Braydon gets up and starts chopping the wet bits off of the firewood. Tony thinks maybe he should help, but it really looks like Braydon has it all under control with the muscles and the flexing and the...maybe Tony should check the lockbox for more food.

Braydon is holding a bottle of sunscreen when Tony returns with a couple of protein bars. “Our stash is getting low.”

“We’ll fish for something later.” He waggles the bottle back and forth a bit. “Take off your tank top and turn around. No getting sunburnt on my watch.” 

Tony pulls off his shirt and turns, hoping Braydon didn’t see the face that he made at the thought of eating fish.

“You must never have had good fish,” Braydon says in his ear while a hand drags along Tony’s shoulder.

“I, um.” He suppresses a shudder when Braydon’s fingers trail across his back and over to his other shoulder. “Sorry, ticklish,” he lies. 

The hand pulls away, which is the worst. It appears in front of his face, a large daub of sunscreen sitting in it. “For your face, I’ll get your neck.”

“Thanks,” Tony mutters, scooping it up and smearing it all over.

“Done.”

He turns back to Braydon and looks up at him.

“Oh, you missed some.” Braydon makes a little aborted movement. “May I?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Tony answers. Gentle fingers slip over his left cheekbone, down along his jawline, into the weird little divot in his chin.

“There, that’s, uh.” Braydon clears his throat. “Can you get my shoulders?”

“Not sure I can reach,” Tony jokes weakly. Braydon does him the courtesy of chuckling before he turns and drops to his knees.

“How’s that?” He holds the sunscreen up.

“Great, thanks.” Tony squeaks, taking the bottle and putting some into his hands. Then he looks down at Braydon’s shoulders. 

Wow, freckles. So many freckles. More freckles than he’s ever seen on one person before. He wants to take his time, study them closer, but that’s probably a bad idea. And a little creepy. Tony spreads the lotion as quickly as he can without it seeming like he isn’t trying at all. 

“There, um. There.” Tony grimaces at his stupidity while Braydon hops back up.

“Thanks.” He takes the bottle back, smiles. “I’m going to go case the other side of the island, see what’s up.”

“Okay.” Tony watches him go, wondering how in the hell any of the others are surviving without someone like Braydon. There’s no way. 

“What was over there?” Tony asks when Braydon returns.

“Same thing that’s over here.”

“So, nothing?” Tony asks. 

Braydon laughs, his eyes are crinkled again. “Exactly.”

“Well, I guess we better do some of these questions, eh?” Tony says, pulling out the deck of question cards they were sent with. Team building exercises keep getting weirder the older he gets. He pulls a card off the top. “Would you trust your partner to always have your back on the ice?”

“You? Definitely,” Braydon answers with a smile. Tony feels his cheeks heat a bit. Maybe he is a little quick into scrums.

“Me too,” Tony says, holding out the cards for Braydon.

“What’s your happiest hockey moment so far?” 

“Memorial Cup 2015, for sure.” Tony nods. It’s the biggest game of his life so far, hands down. The best he’s ever played. “What about you?”

“Hasn’t happened yet,” Braydon replies.

“That’s a copout!” Tony frowns.

“Okay, jeez. I guess, maybe Juniors gold? Yeah, that was pretty nice.”

Tony starts to pull another card, but Braydon stands. “I’m going to make sure that the shelter is secure. Reinforce it in case it rains again later.”

“Alright, I’ll find something to do.” 

Tony looks up and down the beach a couple of times before he decides to try and catch them something. People fish all the time, it can’t be that hard. Tony gets the line and a hook out of the box and heads down to the water line.

“Ick,” he mutters as he spears one of the worms Braydon dug up from somewhere. Tony takes a deep breath and throws the line out into the water. 

And then he sits there forever, give or take, bored out of his mind while nothing happens. Why do people even like to fish? It’s boring and nothing happens and the sound of the water is not soothing like everyone says, and he--

Something pulls on the line so hard that Tony faceplants into the water. 

“Shit,” he sputters, trying to get his feet back under him and keep ahold of the line. He isn’t particularly successful at either and just knows that he’s going to have to let go or drown with whatever this monster on the other end of this line is. 

Hands hook under his arms and pull him up. “I got ya, you’re okay.” Strong fingers tangle in the line and both it and Tony are pulled out of the water. 

Tony sits there and coughs up salt water while Braydon pulls the fish in. Well, almost pulls it in. 

“Fuck,” he hisses when the line goes slack.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I was, I’m...” Tony shakes his head, plops onto his ass. “I’m so worthless, I’m _sorry_.”

“Sometimes the line snaps, that isn’t your fault,” Braydon says, kind as ever. 

Tony feels his cheeks go red for the thousandth time, or whatever. 

“It will be fine, Tony. There’s more hooks.”

“Yeah, and what happens on the island stays on the island, right?” He chuckles nervously.

“Yeah, of course. All of it stays right here.” Braydon replies, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I should teach you how to fish.”

Tony looks up from the hardly-more-than-kindling he’s gathering for the fire. “Uh, what?”

“Yeah, right now, while it’s still early and cool.” Braydon smiles at him, it’s soft and Tony sort of wants to get his mouth on it.

Wait. He does? No, let’s shove that down, leave it for future Tony to deal with. “I’m not sure there’s any help for me.” He looks down, kicks the sand a little bit. “Didn’t you notice yesterday?”

“It wasn’t that bad, you just didn’t know how to react.” He shakes his head. “That isn’t your fault, most people don’t just _know_ how to fish.”

“I bet you did,” Tony mutters, tossing the wood in his hands to the ground.

“I did not. Now stop pouting and come on.”

Tony can admit that the sun is pretty decent still low in the sky like that, making the morning light a brighter blue and, well, he isn’t very poetic, but it’s nice.

“The trick to not losing your line when you’re fishing like this,” Braydon starts, jarring him from his musings, “Is to tie the line around something nearby. A tree, whatever.” Braydon knots the line on a tree nearest the shoreline. “Then you won’t lose it no matter what, right?”

“Right,” Tony agrees, pushing his eyebrows together in concentration.

Braydon shows him how to recognize where the fish are and how to cast. “And then it’s mostly just sitting around being bored until something bites.”

“So this is a good place for another question?”

“Uh, yup.” 

Tony pulls the small deck out of his back pocket, gives them a little shuffle and pulls the one off of the top. “What’s your middle name?”

Jesus, really?

Braydon huffs a little laugh. “Well, I already know yours, don’t I? Rocco.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Tony says. He feels his cheeks heat but he doesn’t know why. It’s stupid, they all know his middle name is Rocco. “What about you?”

“Gerald.”

“Gerald?” Tony repeats, testing the name out loud. He thinks he likes it. “It fits you.”

“Yeah, well, Rocco fits you too.” He ruffles Tony’s hair, gives him a little push at the end. He falls back into the sand and laughs.

“Look, just because you’re so strong doesn’t mean you have to show o--”

The line tugs and Braydon springs to his feet. “Okay, we’d like to have gloves for this bit, but we don’t have any here, right, so what we want to do is a makeshift winch.”

“Wench?” Tony blinks, shakes his head in confusion.

Braydon laughs again.“No, watch.”

Braydon sets the line in the cradle of his thumb and raises his arm up and then sort of just winds the line up, looping the other end under his elbow. Looping and looping until he pulls a struggling fish up to the beach.

Tony has no idea what sort of fish it is, but it’s pretty big. It will probably feed them okay, if he can make himself eat it.

“That’s so cool,” Tony says, eyes wide as he looks up at Braydon. The sun catches on his three day growth and Jesus. H. Christ. There is no way Tony’s own facial hair looks like that. He should have put a razor in his bag.

“Why don’t you go get the fire ready and I’ll clean this.”

Right, like Tony can start a freaking fire. “Is it okay if I watch you?”

“It’s sort of gross.”

“That’s alright, I can take it.” Tony smirks.

“Okay, sure.” Braydon flops the fish down on the small tarp they found in the lockbox and flips open his knife. 

It is not alright and Tony can not take it. There’s the head and the heart and it has a...a _stomach_ and Tony is pretty sure he almost throws up when Braydon rips the spine out of it.

“Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m.” Tony swallows. “Perfectly fine.”

“Okay.” Braydon effortlessly flings the fishy bits into the water. “Let’s go get this cooked.”

Tony finds a few twigs to spear the filets on while Braydon gets the fire going again. He does an okay job of slipping them onto the sticks. Braydon looks pleased and it sparks a little feeling of happiness in him.

He takes a hesitant bite when it’s done, and honestly? It’s better than he expects. It’s still totally fish, but it doesn’t have the usual gross fishy taste that he hates.

“We should do another question.”

“Oh, yeah. Good idea.” Tony pulls one out blindly and holds it out to Braydon.

”What do you wish was better about your game?” 

“Oh, that’s easy.” Tony gives a little half shrug. “I wish I was better at fighting. What about you?” 

He’s quiet for a moment before he finally answers, “I wish I _had_ been the difference in 2015.” Tony opens his mouth to say something, but Braydon is already sitting a little higher, smiling at him. “But anyway, I can help you with fighting.” His smile melts into a grin. “Even though the mini tasmanian devil thing you have going on sort of works for you.”

“Oh my god, shut up!” Tony says, jumping to his feet. 

“You know I’m right.” Braydon stands in one fluid motion. “Now come here.”

It isn’t an order, but something in Tony takes notice and he stands a little taller.

Braydon grabs him by the shirt collar, shows him how to use his reach to get leverage, how to avoid getting his jersey pulled over his head. Encourages Tony to take a couple of swings, to get a feel for it. He thinks he’s actually doing pretty well. 

Which is of course when the sand shifts below him and he loses his balance. He goes down and his life is flashing before his eyes. The ground is going to fucking hu--

Braydon catches him. “Hey, I got you.”

Tony is blinking up into his face, held like Braydon’s just dipped him or some shit. He would feel really stupid, but Braydon is so close, searching his face and Tony has this sudden urge to...to. His eyes drop to Braydon’s lips and he licks his own before shifting back up.

“Are you okay?” Braydon asks, pulling him just a bit closer.

Something dawns on Tony. 

“Hey, I probably wouldn’t be here if you’d been the difference in 2015.”

Braydon swallows, stares at him. His own gaze dips. “I have to go find more fronds.”

“Wha--”

Braydon drops him in the sand and disappears into the tree line.

They get into a little bit of a system and the next day almost passes without any awkwardness but Tony’s kind of miserable. He likes being here with Braydon, he does, and that makes up for the constant foraging and fishing and fire wrangling. But Tony isn’t very good at any of it so it makes him feel even worse when Braydon comes up behind him and fixes the way his hands are holding the hatchet.

“Now try it.”

He does and the wood splits like butter. Of course it does. “Thanks,” he says without enthusiasm.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” 

Tony brushes it off. “Just tired.” 

“Let me, then.” He reaches for the hatchet. “You can go take a nap. I’ll wake you up if I need anything.” 

That just makes Tony feel worthless but he doesn’t have the energy to argue with him and lets the handle of the hatchet slip from his fingers. “Sure thing.”

He gets settled in the shelter and makes himself as comfortable as he can in their extra clothes while he watches Braydon. He’s found himself staring a lot when he knows Braydon can’t see him. Like now. The way his arms and back are on full display as he makes quick work of the wood. His freckles have gotten more pronounced the longer he’s stayed in the sun. They’re everywhere and Tony is absolutely transfixed by them. He thinks about counting them, marking out each one. It would take so long. 

He sighs. Maybe it is better if he just takes a nap.

He wakes up when Braydon climbs into the shelter next to him. His hair is wet. “Sorry, sorry,” he says. “It started raining. Should pass here in a minute.” 

Tony listens to the rain and thinks about the fire. All the wood Braydon cut that’s now wet. “Uhg, the wood.”

“I threw the tarp over it. It’ll dry out in the sun in no time.”

“The fish tarp?”

“Yeah,” he says with a little laugh. “I was trying to catch a few more when it started.”

Tony tries not to think about all the guts that have been on that tarp by imagining Braydon knee deep in the ocean casting a line. “How many of the guys do you think are left?”

“I’d say not too many.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Do you want to trade places? So you can nap and stay dry?”

“Nah, it’s all yours. I’m fine.” 

“You’re always _fine_,” he mumbles to himself as he turns over. 

Braydon is polite enough not to call him on his salty mood. 

The next day brings a cloudless sky and another shirtless Braydon. It’s hot and incredibly humid after the rain yesterday and Tony can only imagine what his hair is doing. Braydon’s is a little frizzy and curling around his ears. It’s honestly lovely along with the beard he’s grown the past few days. Rugged looks pretty good on him. 

Tony imagines he just looks disheveled. 

Braydon eventually roasts up another fish for them to share and Tony’s not sure he can stomach it for the third day in a row. “I might just go for one of the bars today.”

“Yeah,” Braydon says. “I considered trying to rig up a trap to try and get some crabs or something…”

Tony wrinkles his nose. That doesn’t sound any better. “I can’t wait to eat chicken again.”

“We can call it quits, if you want.”

Even in the darkest moments of the night when he was laying on solid wood, soaked to the bone, Tony never considered quitting. “Absolutely not. It’s just two more days.” He doesn’t say what he really means. Doesn’t say he would stay on a tiny island forever if it meant he got to be with Braydon. 

“The off-day we get will feel good after this,” Braydon jokes as he heads for the water’s edge. He squats down to dip his big hands in, washing up to his elbows with his whole perfect back on display. 

Tony can’t. He just can’t. “How long have you looked like this?” he blurts, completely unable to keep the words in any longer. 

Braydon smiles, shaking his hands dry. “Is that one of the assigned questions?”

Christ. Tony’s cheeks flame and he turns heel, heading straight for the shelter to hide away for the foreseeable future.

“Hey, why did you end up picking the pairs for this?” 

Tony looks up at Braydon, who is returning with a couple of crabs. Ugh, look at them move, that is the fucking worst. 

Oh, right. 

“I dunno why, but Coop asked me to do it.” Tony shrugs, looks back at the pile of wood he’s setting up in the pit. “So I did.”

“Oh.” Braydon is quiet for a long time, causing Tony to look up to see if he’s still there. “And why did you pick me for you?”

Tony looks at Braydon. He wants to tell him everything. All the reasons that Braydon was the perfect choice for him.

But he can’t, because then Braydon would know about his feelings. “I got to the end and it was me and you.”

“Oh,” he repeats. He sounds dejected, or something. Great. Tony’s the best at fucking everything up. He should say something, _anything_, to make this better. 

But Braydon is already turning away.

“I’m going to get the fire started,” he says, dropping the crabs into the little corral he made earlier. 

Tony’s honestly had enough. He needs to do something right. “I’ll do it.”

Braydon freezes. 

“Give me the rocks, I’ll do it.”

Braydon hands the flint over and their fingers brush. Tony tries very hard not to think about it as he stomps back over to the firepit his hands built. Damn it, he’s going to do this. 

He hastily adds the rest of the wood to the pile he already started over last night’s ash, shoves some moss and twigs into the spaces between them, and strikes the flint together. 

Nothing happens. 

He tries again. And again. Again, again, again. Each time the rocks clank together he gets angrier and angrier. This shouldn’t be this hard. Fire should _not be this hard_. 

He’s honestly about to break a sweat trying to do this and it’s completely pissing him off. He’s watched Braydon do this twenty times with no problems! He’s watched Braydon do a hundred things without any problems and he can’t even do _this_. Not one single thing has he been able to do properly. Like a fucking failure. 

On the last strike, Tony gets a spark and that spark falls on the moss and the moss catches on fire. Holy shit, he has fire. He has _fire_! “Braydon!” he shouts, frustration evaporating. “Braydon come fucking see this!” 

“Well look at that,” Braydon says with such wonder in his voice. “You’re a natural.” 

Tony wants to laugh, scoff, belittle this stupid accomplishment. His knee-jerk reaction is to tell Braydon how not-natural it was to get this fire started but he can feel the way he’s looking at him. Wants more of that. 

“Yeah?”

“You did so well.”

Tony has to close his eyes against the praise. It’s not even really a big deal. He made some fire. But god, it feels _huge_. Tony wants to hear him say it again and considers, for just a moment, asking. _Tell me again how good I am._

He feels Braydon close along his back and Tony thinks about how easy it would be to just…

“Look at it, the wood is catching so fast. It’s going to be a great fire,” Braydon says. 

Tony swallows. Fuck. He throws a handful of twigs at the flames before turning to Braydon, grabbing his beard-covered face in both hands, and kissing him. 

It doesn’t register that he actually made a move for a few blissful seconds. He enjoys the press of Braydon’s lips before his brain catches up. Oh god, he’s doing this. This is happening. He gasps and Braydon’s tongue is there for just a moment before he’s pulling away.

“Wha--.” He opens his eyes to find Braydon staring, an indescribable look hanging on his face. “Braydon?”

“I’m…” The way the flicker of Tony’s fire casts shadows on his face is mesmerizing. He shakes his head, mouth turning up into a shy smile. “It’s nothing.” 

“So it’s okay if I do this?” Tony asks as he leans in for another kiss. 

Braydon nods just as their lips meet. It’s soft, almost tentative, until Tony decides he’s going to take what he wants. He slips Braydon some tongue, deepens the kiss until he hears Braydon groan. He wraps a hand around the back of Braydon’s neck to hold him in place. He takes and he takes and Braydon lets him. 

Lets him walk them away from the fire and into the shelter. He lets Tony straddle his lap and tilt his chin up and _take_. Tony feels Braydon’s hands find his hips, feels them dig in and pull him closer. They both groan, swallowing up the sounds with each new kiss. Braydon twists his fingers into Tony’s hair, pulls just enough to feel and Tony loves it. 

“You’re so good,” Braydon whispers against Tony’s lips. 

Tony shivers, not interested in fighting how much he gets off on the words that drip from Braydon’s lips. He grinds down against Braydon’s lap and feels the big, strong hand still around his hip hold him there.

Tony slides his hands up the back of Braydon’s shirt and wordlessly demands he remove it. His fingers go right to the bulk of his shoulders, dancing across the freckles there. He gets his mouth on them, finally, tries to taste every single one. 

He’s eager, he knows he is, but he can’t stop himself. He wants everything all at once. “Will you let me?” he asks, breathless, as he trails a hand down Braydon’s chest to the edge of his swim trunks. 

He lays back and lifts his hips for Tony, lets him strip him bare and take him all in. There’s freckles all over the tops of his thighs where the tan skin turns pale. Tony traces a line between a few of them and watches goosebumps appear. 

Tony leans back in for a quick kiss before slinking down the length of Braydon’s body. The wood of the shelter doesn’t feel good on his knees but fuck, he’s never wanted to be anywhere more. He takes Braydon into his mouth, sucks him down and holds him against his tongue. 

Fuck. 

Braydon sighs and a hand finds its way to Tony’s hair. “God, your mouth.”

Tony makes sure he has Braydon’s eyes locked on him as he starts to move. He focuses on the tip, slips his tongue around it until Braydon’s thighs shake just a little. He runs both hands along them from knee to hip, feeling the muscles tense and release. 

He so desperately wants this to be good, to make Braydon feel so good that he never forgets it. So Tony tries. He tries really hard and Braydon gasps and moans and pulls his hair in all the right places. 

It’s electrifying. Tony’s lit up by the way Braydon reacts, the little sounds that spill from his lips. The compliments that teeter on the edge of desperate. He craves them. 

“Just like that,” Braydon sighs. “So good.”

Tony feels the words, they burn his cheeks and trickle down his spine. He’s over eager and getting sloppy but Braydon keeps telling him he’s good, keeps acting like he couldn’t possibly feel any better. 

“Close…” he warns, fingers tightening in Tony’s curls. “Tony.”

He moans around Braydon, at the way his name sounds in his mouth. There’s no way he’s pulling off. “God, your mouth is so…” Braydon trails off, his body goes tight and he comes.

Tony swallows every bit of it down, doesn’t stop until Braydon begs him weakly. He slips back up Braydon’s long body, settles himself back over his hips. He traces a small constellation of freckles near his collarbone, wants Braydon to have a minute to recover.

“I know you came in my...can I kiss you?” Braydon opens his mouth and Tony’s afraid that he’s going to say no, and he can’t deal with that. “Please?” he adds in a little whine.

“The answer is always yes for you, Tony,” Braydon says quietly, pulling Tony into a kiss.

Fuck, every inch of Braydon tastes so good, Tony wants more, needs to have everything and he just wants to...to…

He starts to adjust himself, needs to find a place to get some relief from everything that he’s feeling in this moment. Braydon stills his hips before he can even get started.

“No. No, let me.” Braydon lifts him like he weighs nothing, turns them so he’s on his back. He moves faster than should be possible in their small hut, and sucks Tony right down.

“Oh, fuck.” Tony’s fingers go straight to Braydon’s hair, squeezes. “You. My mouth? Are. You. Kidding?”

He sounds stupid. Stupider than usual even, but holy shit, if he felt even half this good to Braydon, then.

“You’re so good,” Tony whines. Braydon looks up at him and fuck, he’s about to come like a virgin on prom night and it’s. It’s. “Braydon, I don’t think I can…” 

He tries to raise his hips, just a bit, but Braydon pins him down. Tony looks at Braydon’s hands, sees how they cover the whole of his hips and fuck, that’s it for him. 

He comes so hard that his vision goes a little spotty around the edges. 

Tony drops back onto their makeshift bedding, and fuck, he didn’t even realize that he’d curled into Braydon.

“God, Braydon.” Tony takes a deep breath, lets it out on a long sigh. “Fuck.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says with a small laugh.

“You better,” Tony replies. His hands go all grabby and he pulls Braydon back up next to him. They lay there touching everywhere, legs tangled together. He revels in the way Braydon’s fluttering little kisses to every part of Tony he can reach. 

Tony never wants this night to end.

“I hope it was good,” Braydon says. “That you enjoyed it and will, I don’t know...remember this trip fondly, even if it wasn’t the best for you.”

Tony wants to tell Braydon that it’s the best trip he’s ever been on, that he would stay on the island with him forever if they could. 

But that’s silly. 

He smiles, cups Braydon’s jawline. “It wasn’t the worst.”

“I’ll take it,” Braydon says, leaning in and kissing him one last time. “You should sleep now.”

“Okay,” Tony agrees.

It takes him no time at all to drift off in Braydon’s strong arms. 

Tony wakes to the sensation of fingers tangled in his hair. “Mmm, like that,” he hums while Braydon’s other hand slips along the curve of his shoulder. This is a hundred percent the best he’s felt waking up on this island.

“Yeah?” Braydon asks softly. He leans in, gives Tony’s hair a little squeeze as he nuzzles their noses together.

“Yeah,” Tony agrees, pressing a little closed-mouth kiss to the corner of Braydon’s mouth.

Braydon pulls him in, cups the back of his head and just holds Tony for a minute. It’s amazing, being held like this. Like he matters, like Braydon doesn’t want to let him go. 

Tony can’t wait to be held like this in a bed.

“Do you think we’ll win?” he asks quietly. He wants to win the day off so bad so they can spend it together.

There’s something sad in his eyes when Braydon pulls back and looks at him. It doesn’t make any sense to Tony.

“Yeah, maybe.” He smiles, but something’s different. “We’ll see soon enough.”

“Braydon?”

“We should clean up the island, leave it how we found it.” He sits up. “We don’t know how long we have until the boat arrives.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Braydon doesn’t move, though. He looks at Tony for an eternity. “Tony, I.” He swallows.

“Braydon, you?” Tony prompts.

“I’ve really enjoyed being here with you. I know that you said.” He stops, shrugs. “It’s been fun.”

“Me too. With you, I mean.” Tony smiles up into Braydon’s face. The look he gets back is the softest thing he’s ever seen directed his way. 

Braydon leans in and presses their lips together, lingers in it.

And then he’s gone, halfway down to the beach and the fishing tarp before Tony even gets his eyes open.

“Are we the first ones you’re picking up?” Tony asks after Braydon boosts him up onto the empty-but-the-captain boat.

“You’re the only ones left,” He answers. “Everyone else gave up at least three days ago.”

“What?” Tony’s eyes go wide. He thought they’d do the best, but no one else even made it the whole time? That’s. Wow. He looks over at Braydon, who is dripping next to him.

“Looks like we won,” he says before turning and settling into one of the seats on the bow. He sits there studying his fingers and avoiding eye contact all the way in to shore.

“What do you _mean_ Alex only last seventeen minutes?” Tony demands at the team meeting the next day.

“This isn’t team bonding, you can call me Killer,” he says with a smirk. “Anyway, I peaced out after I found out about the sleeping bag bit. I don’t care about a day off and a plastic trophy.” His eyes drift to Pointer and back. “I care about spending time with someone I care about.”

Tony wants to yell at him that he picked Pointer for him specifically so they could spend time together, but he realizes that will be damning about his own choices. So instead he shakes his head and looks down at his crossed feet.

“Hey, uh, I was starting to think you got eaten by an alligator,” Tyler leans over to whisper loudly. 

Tony frowns. “Alligators are fresh water.”

“_That_ you know?” he asks with a snort.

“You _don’t_?” Tony shoots back.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Coop says from the center of the room. “Coby, Rocco, congratulations.” He holds up a shitty plastic trophy. Damn, the prospect one is nicer than that. “A day off you can use whenever, no strings.” He smiles at them in turn. “Good job, boys. My money was definitely on the two of you.”

“That’s because no one is more competitive than Tony,” Johnny quips.

“Yeah, and that’s saying something,” Stammer adds. Everyone laughs. Except him and Braydon. Tony’s looking at Braydon and Braydon is looking pensive. 

Coop dismisses them and Tony really just wants to talk to Braydon, but he’s surrounded by teammates who want to know everything about their island and how they survived. He humors them for a few minutes before, “You guys would know if you’d stayed on yours.”

It gets him some chirps, but he doesn’t care about that. He just wants to talk to Braydon.

Except Braydon is nowhere to be seen. 

And his car is gone from the compound when Tony checks. 

He’s pretty sure Braydon is avoiding him. Tony hasn’t actively seen him ducking out of rooms or skating the other way when Tony passes by, but it’s like. It’s nothing.

No. _He’s_ nothing. Just another teammate that gets an atta boy or a head pat while Braydon focuses on literally anything else in the building.

And it’s been a week. A week since Braydon held him and kissed him. Tony can’t take another day of wondering where he went wrong. 

He just wants to fix it. 

Tony sends everyone on staff home. Tells Nigel that he doesn’t want to watch video today, lets Ray know that he already took care of getting all the jerseys down to wash. He even convinces Tommy that he can leave, that there won’t be a single thing that Coby needs today. No, he checked. It’s fine. He’ll finish picking up and they can take the afternoon. It’s fine, they deserve it. Just go. 

Security is still around, of course, so he goes to the players-only room off to the side of the locker room, the place where Braydon’s street clothes are, and settles in to wait.

Braydon honest to god sags when he walks in. Tony bites his lip, isn’t sure that he can do this.

He finds his resolve a second later, because he didn’t get to this moment by ever giving up when things got hard.

Tony stands, ignoring Braydon’s chest peeking out from under his robe and very specifically not looking at the way his wet hair is curling around his ears.

“Why are you still here?” Braydon asks softly, reaching past him for a shirt. Tony places a hand on his arm and he freezes.

“What did I do?” Tony asks.

Braydon is studying the place where Tony’s hand rests, but he doesn’t answer. Tony gives him a little shake and he looks down into Tony’s face.

“Tell me what I did wrong and I’ll fix it, I promise.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” Braydon opens his mouth but Tony isn’t finished yet. “Why are you acting like the time we spent together means _nothing_?”

“You’re the one who wanted what happened on the island to stay there. I’m doing what you asked.”

“But--”

“I’m the old man who helped you win. You thanked me and no one ever has to know, right?” He smiles and it’s sad like that last morning on the island. “I get it, it’s fine.”

“No! It is _not_ fine!”

Braydon raises his eyebrows. “But it’s what you asked for.”

“I meant don’t tell everyone that I can’t fish or cut wood or, shit, build shelter. Whatever. That stuff. Not _you_. Why wouldn’t I want to keep you?”

Braydon points at himself. “Old, unattractive afterthought.” He shifts his finger to Tony. “Young, hot, everyone lusts after.” He cocks his head. “See the differences?”

“You are young and hot and I lust after you!”

“I’m. What?”

Tony huffs, digs his phone out of his pocket. He searches for that video that Johnny gave him shit over for weeks, hits play and shoves it into Braydon’s face. “Watch this.”

He tries not to turn too red while the tiny him goes on about how big and strong Braydon is, how he’s smart and can do it all. 

“He’d take care of me,” little him says.

“And you did,” Tony says, pulling Braydon’s attention back. “But that isn’t why I want you. You’re kind, and so hot...” Tony trails off, blushes even more. “And you told me that I’m good.”

“You, uh.” Braydon licks his lips. “You like hearing that you’re good?”

“Especially from you,” Tony answers.

“How you try so hard and never give up,” Braydon continues. 

Tony shudders. “Yeah.”

Braydon steps closer, cups his jawline, tips his face up.

“You really want me? Here, outside the bubble of the island?” he asks, studying Tony’s face.

“God, so bad,” Tony breathes. Braydon leans in and kisses him. 

Tony frowns at the back of Braydons car as they make their way through the Tampa streets. It makes sense in retrospect that they had to leave before they could do...anything...but damn if driving to Braydon’s place half-hard isn’t the least comfortable thing he’s ever done.

And he recently spent a week sleeping on the ground.

He pulls up next to Braydon’s car in the driveway and follows him in. They both just stand in the foyer for a minute looking at one another. 

“Do you...need anything?” Braydon asks. It isn’t even fair that his voice gets to sound like that.

“Just you,” Tony says, a little whine creeping into his voice. He doesn’t even care, he needs Braydon’s hands back on him right this minute.

Braydon cups his face, pulls him into a soft, slow kiss. He lingers in it, and Tony almost wants to push, to demand more, but there’s something that’s just so soothing about the way that Braydon deepens it, the way their mouths fit together so perfectly.

“God, I missed you,” he breathes.

“Well, here I am,” Tony spreads his hands just a little bit, almost in a shrug, offers a small smile that he knows doesn’t look as good as he wants, but that’s okay, because Braydon seems reasonably charmed anyway. 

“Come on.” Braydon grabs his hand and pulls him towards the stairs.

Tony doesn’t even spare the room a glance, just helps Braydon pull their clothes off and settles onto the bed. He sighs while Braydon roots around in his dresser. “Oh, this is so nice.”

“Glad you approve,” Braydon chuckles, dropping lube and a condom on the bed. “But I’d bet just about anything would feel good compared to the ground.”

“I’ve been in a real bed for a week, and this one is way better than it,” Tony argues.

“Well, sor_ry_,” Braydon replies, climbing into bed and caging Tony in. It’s _heaven_. Braydon kisses him again and Tony digs fingers into his shoulders. “Where’d you get these cheekbones?” he asks.

“I dunno, where’d you get these freckles?” Tony counters.

“Got ‘em from an island about a week ago.” Braydon grins. “I know you already had those cheekbones when we got there.”

“And you had the freckles,” Tony shrugs, pulls Braydon back in. “But if you don’t start fucking me in the next minute or so I’m going to fucking cry.”

“Your mouth should be illegal,” Braydon groans, scrambling for the lube. Tony’s breath speeds up when he snaps it open, spreads some on his fingers. “Tell me if it hurts.”

Tony doesn’t want to seem petulant but the moment Braydon presses his finger against him, Tony rocks his hips to take the whole thing. He’s waited long enough. “_Yes_,” he hisses. “God Braydon, yes. Please.”

That seems to spur him on and Braydon works him open with one and then two long, dexterous fingers. Three renders Tony speechless, all he can do is roll down against Braydon’s hand, beg with his body for more. 

Braydon eventually gives him what he wants, rolling on the condom and slicking himself up. Tony wraps his legs around Braydon’s hips as he presses inside as slowly as either of them can stand. 

They breathe together as Braydon settles. Tony runs his hands along Braydon’s ribs, up over the back of his shoulders to pull him to his chest. “Kiss me,” he demands. 

Braydon does as his hips start to work and it’s not long before it’s too much. Tony cries out the first time Braydon finds the right angle, clings to his shoulders as he hits that spot inside him again and again and again. 

“D-don’t stop,” he says, voice quivering on a particularly accurate thrust. 

Braydon’s flushed, his whole chest and neck are pink and covered in fucking freckles, and he doesn’t stop. He picks up the pace, rocking the bed against the wall and moving Tony further and further up the mattress with each thrust. He has to put a hand out against the headboard which gives him the leverage to fuck back against Braydon’s hips. 

“Touch me,” Tony gasps. “Please, Braydon, touch me. I need it.” 

His big hand wraps around Tony’s dick and Tony’s whole body reaches for release. He arches his back and presses into each one of Braydon’s thrusts. Searching, searching, searching…

“Be good for me, Tony,” Braydon says, barely above a whisper. “Be good and come for me.” 

Tony absolutely whites out. 

He thinks he hears the soft groan that means Braydon finished, thinks he feels him pull out and run a washcloth on his overheated skin. Well muscled arms wrap around him and pull him back against a very freckled chest. The lips that brush along his jaw are definitely Braydon’s, covered in well-trimmed stubble. 

“Jus’ need a lil’ nap,” he slurs, burrowing into Braydon’s embrace. 

“I’ll be here when you wake up.” 


End file.
